


Stronger Together

by KatieComma



Series: Loving Isaac [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Years Have Passed, Blood, But No Actual Smut In This One, Established Relationship, Mechanic!Isaac, Multi, Poisoning, Polyamory, Rated M For Discussions About Sex, Time Jump From Last Work In Series, Whump, Wolfsbane Poisoning, deputy!Derek, teacher!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-26 21:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Isaac and Stiles have a date night planned.Of course it's ruined and they have to save the day.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Loving Isaac [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2215794
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one jumps ahead about five years (give or take) from the first one... I plan to set the rest of this series after this point... I don't know why but I just like the idea of getting to a place where they've established their relationship and really become who they've wanted to be... and see what that means/where it goes between them.

Isaac stretched out on the big king size bed and watched Derek get dressed.

“It’s never _not_ entertaining to watch you put on your uniform,” Isaac observed.

Derek smiled, but didn’t look up from buttoning up his Deputy uniform.

“It’s like watching a stripper in reverse,” Isaac grinned.

Derek barked a little laugh.

“Which should be sad,” Isaac continued, “cause he’s the hottest stripper I’ve ever seen. And yet, there’s something erotic about it. Maybe it’s watching you strap the gun on.”

Derek finished his buttons and looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe it’s the cuffs,” he growled. He strode to the bed and leaned over to give Isaac a soft kiss. Their lips were a little wet and it was pleasant and familiar. After over five years together it was like any other everyday routine, and yet it always meant something.

Derek grabbed his things and finished getting ready. “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Stiles is trying to convince me to go to Jungle.” He didn’t want to go, but Stiles seemed set on it.

“You should,” Derek encouraged. Derek hated Jungle. If they were going on a date he always wanted to go somewhere a little quieter. So it really was the perfect opportunity to go dancing with Stiles: Derek working a night shift on a Saturday.

“You’re right,” Isaac said, resigned and feeling pouty. “I don’t know why I’ve been such a homebody lately. It would probably be good for me to get out.” He rolled dramatically on the bed like a petulant teenager.

“I agree,” Derek said. “So long as I don’t get called down there because of you guys. Keep Stiles from getting too wasted please?”

Isaac snickered and got up to follow Derek downstairs.

Stiles was sitting at the kitchen table with his computer, papers spread everywhere. He never used the office they'd built him, always preferring to be in the common area even if it was noisy.

“I heard that,” Stiles said without looking up, red pen rushing across a student's paper. “You guys seem to think that because I don’t have wolfie hearing that I’m totally deaf.”

“Heard what?” Derek asked innocently.

Stiles looked up with a dramatic frown. “It was once, like two years ago. So, I got a little drunk. It happens to everyone.”

“You flashed your dick to half of Beacon Hills,” Isaac said, pulling himself up to sit on the table.

“Hey! Off! Off!” Stiles shooed at Isaac. “I’m not done grading those ones yet, and I have to get through all of this if we’re going out tonight. I want to be able to be hung over tomorrow and not worry about it.”

“I knew it,” Derek said. “Have fun, but be good.”

“Being good is overrated,” Stiles said.

“Did you notice?” Isaac asked, ruffling Stiles’ hair.

“What? That he changed the subject and didn’t at all deny flashing his dick to a club full of people?” Derek asked. “Yeah, I definitely noticed that.”

“What point is there in denying it?” Stiles asked. “There’s photographic evidence that makes me hate the internet.”

“At least no one got your face in the same frame,” Isaac pointed out, ever the optimist these days.

“I would have been so fired,” Stiles whined.

“So fired,” Derek echoed.

“But the most important question is: did he learn his lesson?” Isaac asked, wandering to the kitchen and grabbing an apple from the counter.

“Unlikely,” Derek and Stiles said at the same time.

Derek walked to the table and ruffled Stiles’ hair the same way Isaac had. It warmed Isaac's heart to watch them together. There was no jealousy, and never had been. It was just nice being able to step back and watch love from a distance. Like the warm smell inside a coffee shop; you didn't need to be drinking a cappuccino to enjoy the smell.

“Be safe,” Stiles said as he turned from his papers to pull Derek down into a kiss. They lingered for a second; Derek running his hands through Stiles’ hair, Stiles tugging on the deputy uniform a little.

Isaac smiled and just felt so lucky. He’d spent so long living in a house full of hate, it was strange to be in one overflowing with love.

Derek pulled back and walked to the door. “I’m always safe,” he said.

Stiles' and Isaac’s eyes met, and they shook their heads and scoffed together.

“See you guys in the morning,” Derek said. “Don’t make me come arrest you.”

Isaac lounged on the couch and watched TV while Stiles finished grading papers.

Finally Stiles wandered away from the table, his closed computer, papers in a neat stack, to sag onto the couch next to Isaac.

Isaac immediately wrapped an arm around Stiles and pulled him close. If Isaac had his way they’d just lay on the couch and watch movies all night, maybe make out a bit; a little stay-in date night.

“You rushed through those awful fast Mr. Stilinski,” Isaac said. “You sure you were being fair?”

Stiles laughed and playfully swatted at Isaac. “You know I hate that Mr. Stilinski shit,” he said. “Quit being a brat.”

“Those lucky little bastards got such a hot teacher,” Isaac said, leaning in to nibble at Stiles’ earlobe. “How can I resist?”

“Stop trying to suck me down into this couch,” Stiles laughed. “We’re going out. We haven’t been dancing in forever. And since Debbie Downer is working all night we are going to go out dancing.”

Isaac groaned.

“You’ll love it once we’re there. If you don’t, we can come home,” Stiles said.

“I can tell you already that I won’t love it, and I want to come home.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, sitting back far enough to meet Isaac’s eye and raise an eyebrow. “You won’t enjoy being at the club with me. Dancing with me. While I’m wearing one of Derek’s tanks. And I’m all sweaty and the thing is practically see through. And I’m getting eye-fucked by a ton of guys in the place, but I’m only looking at you? You’re telling me you won’t enjoy that? At all?”

“You’ll really wear one of Derek’s shirts?” Isaac perked up. It did sound pretty great to take Stiles out on the town and show everyone who he belonged to. And vice versa. 

Isaac could pull some looks, and more than a few numbers on a good night. So it was nice to go and show everyone that he was taken. Let Stiles grind against him and scent him up in front of a room of other men who wanted both of them.

“I will definitely wear one of Derek’s shirts,” Stiles promised as he jumped up from the couch. “So let’s go get ready.”

Getting ready together was fun too. Stiles spent too much time artfully dishevelling his hair before turning his gelled hands on Isaac’s shower-wet curls to coax them to behave. Standing next to each other laughing in the bathroom mirror, Isaac was reminded just how lucky he was; it was an everyday occurence.

They wandered into Jungle arm in arm, Stiles voicing his fear that some of the high school kids would be there and would recognize him from school.

“I thought we were supposed to be all about each other tonight,” Isaac shouted over the music. “Forget about work. Forget about school...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stiles groaned, letting his head fall back petulantly and baring his throat. “Throwing my own words back at me. I see what you’re doing there.” His Adam’s apple bobbed obscenely with each word and swallow.

Isaac turned into him, pressing their bodies together and mouthing at Stiles’ neck.

Stiles’ muscles tightened a little, but he didn’t startle the way he used to. He wrapped his arms around Isaac’s neck and basically hung off him.

“Mmmm. My wolf loves it when I bare my throat does he?” The humming of the words vibrated out of Stiles’ throat right into Isaac’s mouth.

Isaac pulled Stiles closer and whispered into his ear: “You really think you can show your throat to a room full of other men and I won’t do something about it?” He growled playfully and nipped at Stiles’ earlobe.

“Oh, I was counting on it,” Stiles said. “Well... maybe I hadn’t exactly planned it that way. But it worked out didn’t it?” He nuzzled into Isaac’s neck for a second before he took Isaac’s hand and dragged him toward the dance floor.

Isaac let himself be dragged and watched eyes follow them jealously through the crowd. Possessiveness surged in him. He moved closer behind Stiles, stopping him suddenly and pulling him close in the middle of the crowd.

They wrapped their arms around each other and found the rhythm of the music, becoming one with the swaying crowd.

Despite their closeness to each other, Isaac glanced around and saw they were still being watched hungrily. Maybe some of the onlookers were hoping they were just in it for a dance or two and would split apart.

How wrong they were. It wasn’t one dance. It was every dance forever.

The way their bodies moved wasn’t just practice and familiarity; they moved perfectly together because they were meant to be together.

Stiles was his. In a way that nothing and no one had ever been his. Isaac’s home wasn’t the loft, it was in the arms of Stiles and Derek. Even when it was just two of them, that sense of home prevailed. If they lost everything but each other he would still be home.

Stiles turned in his grip, moving with the music until his ass pressed back against Isaac. Isaac groaned into his ear. “Thought you wanted to stay out and dance for a while,” he said.

“That's still the plan,” Stiles replied.

“You keep doing this to me and I’m gonna carry you home if I have to,” Isaac replied, nuzzling at the back of Stiles’ neck the way that always made him shiver.

Isaac’s hands slid around Stiles’ waist, pulling him close so their bodies moved like one. He was tempted to move his hands lower, slide them into Stiles’ tight skinny jeans, but there were too many eyes on them and that part of Stiles belonged only to him and Derek.

“You drive me crazy,” Isaac whispered, breath brushing Stiles’ neck.

“What?” Stiles called out into the thumping bass. “I can’t hear you!”

Of course Stiles hadn’t heard him, his ears were only human after all. Stiles was his fragile little human. Isaac’s arms tightened a little, protectively.

They gave into the music. Isaac closed his eyes and let it flow over and around him, vibrating in his chest. He took deep pulls of Stiles’ scent in through his nose, tainted with the salt of his sweat. Underlying it was Derek’s scent, tied to the shirt Stiles was wearing.

Stiles’ hands came back and took hold of Isaac, sliding up and down his shoulders and neck, tugging on the hair at the base of his skull.

It was intoxicating: being touched and held and grinding together just on the edge of sex in a room full of other people. A room full of people who knew that Isaac and Stiles belonged to each other.

Stiles spun in his arms suddenly and grabbed his hands. “Come on,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Stiles pulled him to the bathroom which was empty and small and had smelled awful before they’d even opened the door.

The moment they were inside Stiles pushing him against the door of a stall and kissed him hard.

Isaac planted his hands firmly on Stiles’ shoulders and pushed him away. “What’s going on?” The bathroom echoed with the bass but wasn’t overwhelmed the way the rest of the club was. They could talk freely.

“Dude, I have never had sex in a club bathroom, it’s on my sex bucket list,” Stiles said, moving closer again.

Isaac laughed. “Oh man, you have a sex bucket list?”

Stiles frowned. “How long have you known me?”

“Yeah, ok, fair enough,” Isaac admitted. “I’m not having sex with you in here.”

“Aw how come?” Stiles whined.

“Because it’s gross in here Stiles,” Isaac said.

“It’s not so bad,” Stiles said. “People do it all the time. Sex in club bathrooms. You were rubbing up against me in a very inviting way. I just thought...”

“Take a deep inhale through your nose for me,” Isaac said.

Stiles did as instructed and winced a little. “Ok, so it’s not potpourri.”

“Now imagine having, as you like to call them, wolfie senses,” Isaac said.

Stiles wrinkled his nose.

“This is a good thing,” Isaac said, holding Stiles’ shoulders tight. “I never want to associate sex with you with this smell.”

“Yeah, alright,” Stiles said. “Let me hit the head and we’ll grab drinks.”

“And the way I was rubbing against you?” Isaac asked as he headed for the door. “It's because later when we get home we’re going to spend all night in bed. Keep each other awake until Derek gets home.”

Stiles purred a happy little noise. “Awesome. Now shut up or I’m going to be pissing on the ceiling.”

Isaac laughed and snuck out the door to wait in the hall.

Once Stiles was done they stumbled to the bar together. They probably looked drunk, but they were just being playful. Holding hands, tugging each other around, tickling here and there. The constant touching of two people who can’t stay away from each other. Magnets made of flesh and bone.

They bellied up to the bar and Stiles leaned over. “A Pepsi and a 7-Up please good sir!” He called loudly over the music.

Isaac ducked his head and smiled. He’d never ask Stiles not to drink on a night out, but he was always glad when Stiles chose to stay sober. Isaac didn’t mind drunk people. But being on a date with a drunk person when you couldn’t get drunk could suck. Stiles had admitted over the last few years that it had lost its appeal; being drunk. When neither of his boyfriends could get drunk, he said it felt unfair, like he was rubbing it in their faces. They protested that he wasn’t, but over the years Stiles had started quietly ordering fewer and fewer drinks.

A bubbling glass of clear liquid was pressed into Isaac’s hand. He gulped the 7-Up back quickly, excited to get back onto the dance floor. The thrumming of arousal in his veins had become background noise, like the music pulsing through him, and he felt like he was flying.

And then Stiles twitched and set his glass down on the bar. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone which seemed to be ringing, though neither of them could hear it over the noise. Stiles’ dad’s face was on the screen.

Stiles’ face creased with concern, his scent souring with it. And then he hit accept and started toward the exit. “Dad? Dad? Hold on! I’m at Jungle! Give me a minute and I’ll be outside!”

Isaac set his glass down and followed. The first words Isaac heard from the phone once the door closed the music in behind them was: “It’s Derek. Get here now.” The concern in the sheriff’s voice was frightening.

Stiles looked at Isaac, eyes wide. Fear tainted his scent like burning sugar. But then, in a moment, Stiles’ face flipped from fear to determination, his voice steady when he spoke. “Where?”


	2. Chapter 2

Derek stood in the break room and poured a cup of coffee while he thought about Stiles and Isaac dancing at Jungle. He’d never admit it to either of them, but he didn’t hate Jungle as much as he told them he did. He just wasn’t a dancer. And whenever he went with them, Stiles spent the entire night trying to make sure Derek was having fun; which Stiles thought meant dancing. Little did he know that watching Isaac and Stiles have fun was more than enough for Derek. So he opted out of dance dates because he knew that Stiles would have more fun if all he had to worry about was grinding up against Isaac.

It was a beautiful picture in Derek’s head. 

The coffee smelled and tasted a little different, but someone had probably just changed out the brand. Still tasted good. It tasted like coffee. He wasn’t the coffee connoisseur that Stiles was.

“Deputy Hale?” A voice called out down the hall: the new guy Doug. He’d only been around a few weeks, and despite being a bit of a klutz he seemed like a good guy.

“Yeah?” Derek called out, stealing another sip of coffee with a sinking feeling that he was going to miss out on the rest of the cup.

Doug ducked into the break room. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve got a call out. Near the Preserve.”

Derek sighed and set his mostly full cup down by the sink.

“Naw man, don’t waste it,” Doug said coming in and grabbing a travel mug from the cupboard. “Take it to go.” He grinned and poured Derek’s coffee into the plastic travel mug, handing it over with a friendly smile.

“Thanks,” Derek returned the smile. He was getting better at the whole social thing. “Details?”

Doug filled him in on the call. Sounded like some kids drag racing and one of them went off the road.

Derek pulled up to the scene, confused when there was no ambulance. It had sounded like there were probably injuries. He took one more sip of his coffee to clear his head and stepped out onto the road.

The car in the ditch was making huffing and puffing noises like it was still cooling down. The engine still tick tick ticking.

There was no one around. Derek reached out with his supernatural senses, but he didn’t hear any voices or movement.

Where the hell was everyone?

That’s when it happened. His gut churned suddenly and he bent double with the pain of it, letting out a huffed groan. His vision started to blur, and he stood back up feeling dizzy. The pain in his stomach grew sharper, and when the pain pushed him to his knees he heaved and threw up a pool of black. It tasted like coffee on its way up.

Derek’s head swam and he thought he tumbled sideways, but he couldn’t remember, and suddenly he was looking up at the sky. The lights from his cruiser circled overhead, flashing against tree branches that stretched out over the road.

Footsteps. Coming closer. They seemed to echo around him, scratching in the dirt where before there was only silence.

“Big bad wolf,” the voice said softly. Woman or man? Derek couldn’t tell. Everything was too distorted. “How was your coffee this evening Deputy Hale?” There was extra bite in the word deputy.

He guessed the footsteps were getting closer, but his senses betrayed him, flickering in and out. His vision swayed and it felt like he was upright and then on his back again. His stomach heaved and he turned his head to the side to let something trickle from his mouth. He was looking at his cruiser. No one around. He turned his head skyward again, feeling dizzy. When he tried to move his neck to look the other way he found he couldn’t.

“Poor Deputy Hale,” the voice came again, “just disappeared one day. He was always such a nice guy for a nasty werewolf.” The face swam into view blocking his view of the cruiser lights strobing on the branches. “Do they even know what you are?” The face sneered. He was having trouble focusing on their features. They looked like a monster with bright sparkling eyes and a wide evil grin. “No. They wouldn’t employ you as a cop if they knew what kind of monster you were. A monster that spawns monsters. That spreads evil.”

The radio crackled from the cruiser. He’d left the door open. The battery would die from the interior light being on. It was such an inane thought when he was probably about to die. He thought he heard the sheriff’s voice and opened his mouth to tell him to run, but nothing came out. Nothing but a gurgling sound that obstructed his airflow.

“We’re going to have such fun with you,” the monster cackled. “And then we’ll do the same to each and every member of your pack. Werewolf, human, doesn’t matter to me. No more Hale pack. We’ll cleanse Beacon Hills once and for all.”

Derek felt a surge of strength and his eyes flickered to Alpha red, but he could only hold it a moment before the poison inside took hold again and cramped his body with pain.

“Oh, he’s a strong one,” Doug said from somewhere close by. “This will be fun.” Derek was usually a much better judge of character. Fucking Doug. He should have known.

Derek heard the radio crackle again and was sure he heard John’s frantic voice.

Derek managed to push the word “run” out between wet coughs as the world started to turn black.

“Run?” The monster asked. “Did he just threaten us?”

And then Derek let the dark take him.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles’ foot pressed the pedal of the old Jeep to the floor, and she complained a little, but sped up.

Isaac sat in the passenger seat, holding up Stiles’ cell on speaker.

“Is your backup there yet?” Stiles asked. His blood raced so fast he could barely hear over the drumming of it in his ears.

“Almost,” his dad replied. “But they ran off. Guess they figured offing a Deputy and the Sheriff in one night was a bad play. Probably right.”

“What’s going on with Derek?” Isaac asked.

“The same Isaac,” the sheriff barked. “So quit asking. It’s not helping.”

The backup beat Stiles and Isaac by less than a minute, and the Jeep skidded to a halt beside the cruisers. 

Stiles almost forgot to put the Jeep in park and pull up the brake before he jumped out. Isaac and his super speed beat Stiles to Derek’s side. But he wasn’t jealous, just glad Derek now had someone with him. Isaac knelt at Derek’s side, holding his hand, looking helpless and desperate.

Stiles’ dad was leaned close, checking Derek’s breathing. “I cleared his airway and did CPR. He’s breathing again, but shallow.”

And then Stiles saw the ground all around Derek. Splattered in blackish-red bloody vomit.

“Isaac get back!” Stiles yelled.

Isaac jumped immediately, obviously torn between being close to Derek and obeying Stiles.

“Get back!” Stiles yelled. “Don’t get any on you. It might be wolfsbane.”

Isaac looked in horror at the bloody pools, and the mess of it that had spilled down the front of Derek’s shirt. He danced back to get away from Derek and the pools, but the pain in his face at leaving Derek’s side was evident. He whined high in his throat.

Stiles knelt at Derek’s side, across from his dad.

“He’s unconscious,” his dad said apologetically, "but breathing. He’s fading though Stiles.”

Isaac’s whining peaked for a second before calming back to a grating background sound as he paced just beyond the pools of gore.

“What happened here Stiles?” The sheriff asked. It hurt to hear his dad sound so unsure, and looking to Stiles for answers. When had those roles flipped around?

“I don’t know yet,” Stiles said, looking down at Derek’s face, almost serene in unconsciousness. “Derek,” he said, firm but soft at first. “Derek. Derek! Derek! Wake up!” He started to yell in Derek’s face. “Derek Hale! Derek William Hale! Wake up you stubborn bastard!”

Derek didn’t even stir. Of course he wouldn’t. Not for himself. He’d just lay there and let himself die like the martyr he was always trying to be. The only thing Stiles could think to rouse him was letting him know the pack was in trouble.

Stiles turned to panicked, pacing Isaac. “Isaac, call out to him.”

Isaac obeyed immediately. “Derek!” His voice was wobbly and hoarse with fear. Derek!”

“Call out for help,” Stiles said, turning back to Derek’s face.

“Derek help!” Isaac wailed. “Derek help me!”

Derek’s face twitched and he growled, forcing more of the black out of his mouth before he opened his eyes and gasped with a wet gurgle.

“What was it Derek?” Stiles demanded, leaning down to meet his eyes. “Tell me how to help you.”

“Wolfs... bane...” Derek choked. “Drank it. With coffee.” He turned his face to the sheriff. “Doug...”

Stiles looked to his dad who gritted his teeth and nodded.

“What kind of wolfsbane Derek?” Stiles demanded, his voice still oddly calm though he felt the panic clawing in his stomach to escape.

“Don’t...” Derek gurgled and choked. “Don’t... know.” He forced the words out through bubbles of bloody black liquid.

“I need to get him home,” Stiles said to his dad.

The look of pride his dad sent his way went down with the panic to be thought about later. Derek was priority.

His dad helped him heft Derek, who grunted in pain at each small move and eventually lost consciousness again. They got him into the passenger seat of the Jeep and pulled off his ruined shirt. Isaac hopped into the back of the Jeep and they sped home.

There wasn’t time to call anyone else. Isaac carefully avoided touching any of the mixture of coffee, blood and wolfsbane that ruined Derek’s skin and uniform here or there while he helped Stiles carry him to the elevator and into the loft.

Shortly after Stiles had moved in, they’d started renovating. They’d knocked down a wall into the next unit and made it into Stiles’ office and makeshift magical medical bay. They’d even bought an old hospital bed for the middle of the room.

Stiles rarely used it as an office. Too many bad things had happened in that room. It was a good place to store books and play with some of his experiments, but when he was sitting down to work on things like grading papers, he preferred the kitchen table.

They hauled Derek up onto the bed and his head flopped lifelessly to the side. 

Careful of any of the blood and wolfsbane mixture, Isaac cupped Derek’s face. “You’re going to be ok Derek,” Isaac said, calm now despite the tears streaking down his cheeks. Stiles couldn’t smell emotion, but he swore he could smell the waves of grief already radiating off of Isaac.

Stiles turned away from the intimate scene, despite the fact that he belonged. He couldn’t take time for grief or fear or anger or anything but the intense focus he had on saving Derek. He didn’t need to rifle through his cabinets to find the antidote he’d made. He knew exactly where it was: in it’s pretty wooden box in the top drawer. He pulled out one of the little vials of muddled purple/brown liquid and brought it to Derek’s bedside.

“Will it work?” Isaac asked, taking his hands away so Stiles could do what he needed to.

“We’ll see,” Stiles said as he carefully uncorked the bottle. “It depends on if we’ve run into this strain before. This antidote only contains the kinds we've encountered before. Also: I haven’t tested it... so it might not work at all. But without knowing exactly what he’s ingested this is the best I’ve got right now.”

Isaac nodded, wiped away his tears, and tensed his jaw.

“I need you to hold his jaw shut until he swallows at least some of it,” Stiles said. “It won’t work at all if he just spits it back out.”

Isaac looked nervous.

“He’s weak right now, you’ll be able to hold him,” Stiles said.

Isaac moved forward and waited for Stiles to pour the liquid into Derek’s mouth. Then Isaac put one hand on top of Derek’s head and the other clamped his jaw shut.

Derek twitched a little. He tried to thrash against Isaac’s grip but it was a pathetic attempt, and Stiles watched Derek’s throat work, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Ok, let go,” Stiles said.

Isaac nodded and backed off.

“Go have a shower, ok?” Stiles asked, feeling suddenly tired. “I’ll stay with him.”

“But I want-”

Stiles cut him off. “I just want to make sure you haven’t got any on you,” he said. “Please?” He let some desperation creep into his voice.

Isaac scowled but went upstairs. Stiles heard the shower turn on just as Derek stirred again.

Stiles grabbed a bucket from the corner.

“Oh god,” Derek sputtered before he curled up.

Stiles handed him the bucket. Derek turned away and threw up on the floor instead.

Stiles sighed. Naturally Derek would be that guy. He walked around the bed to look at the new puddle. There was less blood and more black stuff. A good sign, he hoped.

“Ungh it hurts,” Derek groaned, curling his arms around his stomach.

Talking was another good sign.

“Hurts less or more than before?” Stiles asked. “And remember: this is for posterity, so be honest.” He was hoping the Princess Bride quote would cheer himself up more than he hoped Derek would recognize it.

“Different,” Derek groaned. “But I-” He didn’t get anymore words out before he hurled again, this time into the bucket. It smelled more like coffee and less like blood.

“In your coffee, right?” Stiles asked. Derek had said it before, but Stiles didn't know if he'd remember that.

Derek nodded as he threw up again.

“Where’d you get the coffee?”

Derek coughed to clear his throat. “Sheriff’s station,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes full of concern.

Stiles dropped the bucket in Derek’s lap and pulled out his cell. He dialled his dad.

“Is he ok Stiles?” His dad answered.

“I don’t know yet,” Stiles replied, “but it’s looking up. The wolfsbane was in the coffee at the station. You need to dump all the coffee in that place. Light it on fire. Whatever, but get rid of it. Wolfsbane can mess regular people up too when they ingest it.” Stiles remembered Lydia’s party when everyone hallucinated. He remembered vividly the accusing look on his father’s face.

“What does it do?” His father jolted him back to the present.

“It depends on the strain,” Stiles said. “And I don’t know what kind this is. But it could make them hallucinate.”

“Ok. I’m on it.” He hung up without another word, concerned for his people now.

When Stiles looked back, Derek lay limp on the bed, barely holding onto the bucket. Stiles grabbed it before it fell.

Derek looked up at him gratefully, covered in sweat and pale, but his eyes were alert.

“Thanks for taking care of Isaac,” Derek said softly. “For looking out for him.” He ducked his head. “And me.”

“Jesus, you must be dying if you’re admitting that I took care of you,” Stiles said.

Derek scowled but followed it up with a grin when he met Stiles’ eye. “It’s better,” he answered the unasked question that Stiles had hidden in his sarcasm. “I feel better.”

“Good,” Stiles said firmly, putting a hand to Derek’s clammy forehead. He was starting to heat up again which mean the werewolf healing was taking over. “Good. Because you’re definitely cleaning up this mess in the morning.”

“Me?” Derek protested weakly. “I was poisoned. You’re blaming this on me?”

“I handed you a bucket and you literally turned your head the other way,” Stiles bickered back. “You’re definitely on mop duty tomorrow.”

Derek shook his head and laid it back down on the bed.

“Sleep for now though, mop tomorrow,” Stiles said. “I’ve got your back. You can rest.”

Derek sighed and closed his eyes, hands falling limp at his sides.

Stiles cleaned him up gently with a cloth so he didn’t wake; wiping the bits of vomit from his skin where it left little red welts behind. Stiles watched the welts heal in front of his eyes and heaved his own sigh of relief. While he was waiting for Issac to come back he mopped up the floor, making sure he got every little bit.

Isaac came in, clean, his curly hair puffing up in every direction as it dried without product in it.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly.

Isaac came over and hugged him, pulling Stiles into his chest. And that’s when Stiles felt the exhaustion take over for a few seconds. He didn’t have time to sleep, he had some shit to figure out while Derek was asleep: who attacked him? Where were they now? How would he kill them? But he let himself have a moment in Isaac’s arms where he could sag into Isaac’s strength and be held.

Stiles finally pulled back. “I have some calls to make, can you stay with him?”

Isaac nodded eagerly. “He’s ok?”

“The antidote seems to have worked, but keep an eye ok?” Stiles asked.

Isaac nodded again. He kissed Stiles’ temple softly. “I’m so glad you’re a genius.”

Stiles smiled at the compliment and let himself bask in it for a moment before he stepped away and let Isaac pull up a chair next to Derek, where he sat down and took Derek’s hand into his. Derek didn’t wake.

Stiles pulled out his phone again and headed for the main room, closing the door on his boyfriends so he could hunt down some mother fuckers.

It was almost 8 AM and the sun was starting to creep its way into the loft when Stiles’ cell rang. It was a hard hollow sound in the little office/hospital room.

He answered it quickly to stop the ring from disturbing Derek and turned away to speak quietly into his phone. “Hey dad,” he said softly. “What have you got?”

His dad gave him the rundown. After he got in touch with Chris Argent they were able to track down those responsible. Rogue hunters who had abandoned the code and started hunting down packs and slaughtering them; even the children. Just like Kate had done to the Hale family. Treating them like animals instead of people.

Stiles gripped his phone a little too tight while he dad went on.

The sheriff and the Argents had hunted them down, arrested them, and contacted the higher authorities. They’d be put on trial for murders in several other states. Werewolf families didn’t always involve only werewolves, and they hadn’t discriminated: connected with a wolf? You die.

“Thanks dad,” Stiles said softly. “I appreciate it.”

“Give Derek my best.”

They disconnected.

Derek, who had been sleeping soundly only minutes before, spoke up with a soft voice. “I thought we were done with this...” He trailed off like he was looking for the right word.

“Shit,” Stiles bit out, turning back to Derek’s bed. “The word you’re looking for is shit.”

And that was it. That was Stiles’ breaking point. The bad guys were caught, his pack was safe. He sagged back against the wall and slid to the floor, feeling the panic finally crawl its way up into his chest to make his breath fast and his pulse race with it. It climbed its way up his throat and into his eyes to make tears spill down his cheeks. He clutched his phone so hard that his hand turned white.

And then Derek was right there in front of him, crouched between his haphazardly spread legs.

Derek didn’t look frightened, he’d been through too many of Stiles’ panic attacks for that. Instead he looked alive and safe and that was all Stiles needed.

Derek put his hands to Stiles’ cheeks, palms warm. “Thank you for being strong when I can’t,” he said earnestly.

Stiles sobbed quietly, hoping not to wake Isaac who was passed out on the couch just outside the door. He dropped his phone and took tight fistfuls of the Henley they’d put on Derek when he’d finally stopped throwing up. It was soft in his fingers and he balled it up tight. His throat was closed up with too many emotions at once.

Derek leaned in and kissed him softly.

Stiles started to laughed, his entire body suddenly relaxing as the laughter rolled through him like sunlight.

Derek smiled, but had that confused puppy look in his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You taste so gross dude,” Stiles kept laughing, unable to stop. “Definitely... should have... brushed your teeth... before you... kissed me.”

Derek laughed too, his hands falling from Stiles’ face to his shoulders, still keeping that grounding touch on him.

The door clicked open lightly. The sunlight from the big wall of windows in the main room of the loft created a hard line of light across the room. It also had the benefit of lighting Isaac up from behind and making him look angelic. His curls stuck up in every direction, but it was perfect.

“Laughing seems like a good sign,” Isaac said sleepily as he shuffled his way over to them and sat down next to one of Stiles’ splayed legs, long fingers immediately fiddling with Stiles’ kneecap through his jeans.

“You weren’t worried about me were you?” Derek asked, running his fingers through Isaac’s sleep messy hair.

“Not for a second,” Isaac grinned, his eyes still heavily lidded with sleep. His fingers wrapped around Stiles’ thigh and tightened for a moment. “I knew Stiles had your back.”

“You too,” Stiles said, all of the energy starting to drain from him now that his adrenaline was seeping away. He let his head fall back against the wall and finally let go of Derek’s shirt, his fingers sore. “Couldn’t have done it without you Isaac.”

Isaac ducked his head and Derek frowned, probably smelling something like shame. Isaac never thought he was good or helpful or much of anything.

“I remember it was dark,” Derek said softly. “There was so much pain. And I was sure I was dying. And then I heard your voice calling out for me Isaac. I remember that. And I came back to it.”

“See?” Stiles added with a smile, playfully punching Isaac’s shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Isaac grinned at Stiles, ducking his face a little shyly.

Stiles looked back at Derek, who was still running his fingers through Isaac’s curls. “So you totally ruined club night, you know that right?” He asked.

Derek frowned. “I’m sorry, I ruined club night?”

“I was doing some of my best work,” Stiles said, sagging against the wall and feeling like he was made of jelly.

Derek glanced at Isaac disbelieving.

“He really was,” Isaac said, deadpan. “There was major gyrating.”

“I was poisoned and I almost died,” Derek said.

Stiles ignored him and looked at Isaac. “You know what this means right?”

“Oh yes,” Isaac said, clueing in. “Definitely.”

“Oh god. What?” Derek barked playfully.

“It means that next time you’re coming with,” Stiles said, booping Derek’s nose and feeling his eyes start to close of their own volition.

“No,” Derek said.

“Yup,” Stiles said, dramatically popping the P at the end. “Or I’ll never forgive you for drinking coffee that I suspect tasted and smelled funny.”

Derek ducked his head, cheeks going pink.


End file.
